In the Wee Hours of the Morn
by Netherworld
Summary: There's a lot of insomnia among the crew of the Normandy. One woman in particular, however, has been getting precious little sleep lately. For once it's not the dreams of slavers or her team being killed; no, this time it's far more pleasant images that plague her mind. With the implications that they represent, the commander can't rest until she's faced the source they stem from.


It was in the small hours when the woman in front of her finally stirred. Her gentle figure flexed underneath the military-issue sheets - 0% cotton, please and thank you - and then she settled down, now facing her. She knew from years of personal experience just how terrible an itch they could provoke after countless nights spent under them, so she had taken to sleeping fully clothed; that, and it seemed that the greatest of urgencies always sneaked upon them in the wee hours of the morning, so not having to dress saved her a lot of precious time.

With a faint hint of a smile on her lips, the woman leaning on the wall brushed the memories away. They were souvenirs of a different life – a life that seemed to have transpired aeons ago now – and had no place in her current predicament. She was distracted as it was, and needed no other, if enticing decoys prancing around her befuddled mind. A sigh from the bed served as the final reminder and brought the stern woman back to the present, and to the awfully complicated situation she'd found herself in.

_How did I manage to get my sorry ass into this mess?_ the woman bemoaned the circumstances and shot a woeful look at the sliding doors to the right. It would've been immeasurably easier to slip away quietly and let the matter be. But how could she? Her fingers curled in momentary anger at herself and she bit down hard on her lip to stifle a groan. _You are the saddest excuse for a marine that's ever existed, Shepard,_ she could hear her gravelly inner voice jibing at her. _Fuck you,_ was her eloquent response as she pushed the thought away, her breath hitching at what she was about to do.

"Here goes nothing," she murmured and pushed herself off the cold metal wall, dead set on waking the ethereal beauty before and telling her exactly what she felt. A few tentative steps later, however, she stopped short, as if someone had welded her to the spot; the form lying on the bed shifted, and then her soft voice emerged. "Shepard?" the other woman spoke, the simple word laced with so much meaning that the commander's heart burned happily in her chest. _Get it together, marine!_ she chided herself and set her jaw.

The woman finally rose to a sitting position and let her blue glance slide over the stock-still form of the commander. "You could've said something earlier, you know," the azure-skinned asari uttered gently, her eyes sparkling with barely concealed mirth. "I'd have sworn you had fallen asleep leaning on that uncomfortable wall," again with that amused undertone. "You could've, perhaps…" at this, the asari let her words hang for a bit, "joined me, no?" she finished with a ghostly smirk, her voice barely more than a purr. Shepard's eyes were reduced to two suspicious slits by now and finally, she moved, taking a single step forth. "How long have you been awake?" she parried the question, groaning inwardly at her own childish attempt to avoid the issue. Secretly, though, she was hoping that Liara would have none of it.

Her wish was soon granted – albeit not exactly as she would've liked - as the said asari slid off the bed and let the covers fall from her sleek body. Shepard's mouth refused to close at the sight and she could feel a rosy hue creeping up her neck and cheeks; she was blushing like a damned schoolgirl! The commander was fighting with the hormone-ridden teenager now, vying for the reins and control, and all the while the scientist was inching closer. When the marine finally gained the upper hand, it was already too late.

"Liara?" she stared askance at the woman, her own voice little and meek. "What are you doing?" Shepard asked again, this time just a little more breathless and just a little more desperate. The asari only grinned in lieu of response and chose to provide her answers with nonverbal communication rather than words. With the usually stoic and impenetrable commander now practically in shambles, it took little more than a soft push to have her stumble back and hit the wall she had been leaning onto until very recently. Liara followed the entranced woman, her own gait much more graceful and unbearably enticing. Try as she might, Shepard could not tear her mesmerized gaze from the nearing form of the asari. The fact that she was dressed in nothing save a skimpy nightgown wasn't helping at all.

"Relax, commander," she murmured as she reached the taut body of the other woman. "I'm not out to hurt you," she added when those piercing green eyes stared back into her own with the look of a caged animal. When words didn't seem to soothe the torn woman, she traced her soft fingers along her jaw, the touch nothing more than a breezing caress. At this, Shepard seemed to let out the breath neither knew she was holding and her gaze cleared. "I'm sorry, Liara," the dark-haired woman spoke, unable to look at the asari completely. "I shouldn't have barged in on you like this. I come across like a creepy stalker," she sighed still evading the scientist's eyes.

"No, you come across like a woman who's very unsure of herself," the asari responded, her voice soft and assuaging. "Like a woman that's scared. That doesn't know what she wants," a gentle smile was pulling at those beckoning lips in front of her, and the last vestiges of resistance still persevering in Shepard were blown away by its sincerity. The commander truly fell apart in the asari's embrace, pulling her closer without so much as a warning. Their lips met thunderously, the first kiss they ever shared awkward and needy; but it was **theirs**, and Shepard could've cared less for the skill she had displayed at the moment.

Liara's lips were warm, plaint and so very welcoming, drawing the commander ever closer until every cell in her body was screaming for air. With tears of joy in her emerald eyes, Shepard pulled away for an inch and stared into the blue eyes of the beautiful asari. "I don't know if I can handle this. I don't know if I'm strong enough, Liara," the worries that had been gnawing at her heart for weeks finally spilled from her mouth, fast and blurred by the strain in her voice. Nevertheless, the scientist understood her perfectly. A smile curled the edges of her lips and she leaned in to peck the shaking commander on the nose. "You are. I know you are," she reassured her with those simple words, her gaze kind and undemanding. She had questions, of course – many of them, really – but they could all wait. For the moment, she was more than happy for being able to hold the troubled woman when she needed a shoulder to lean on.

It had been little less than torture for the asari, uncovering Shepard's past bit by bit and seeing how she still suffered from guilt and thousands of memories not even modern science was capable of erasing. Instantly, she felt the urge to help the commander – what it stemmed from, she knew not, even now – and as she probed deeper and deeper, she found herself inadvertently falling in love with the woman. Behind those flinty walls of wrought iron and biotic barriers, there was a soft, vulnerable person. Despite being rough around the edges, Shepard always lent a hand where one was needed, and never displayed any heartlessness at all; quite the opposite of what she was expecting after reading the articles and rumors about "The Butcher of Torfan". Her commander was amazing and astonishing in her feats, there was no denying that. But given all she had been through, it was no wonder some of it came with baggage, loose ends and unfinished business.

Liara's fingers traced their path from Shepard's face and down her neck, stopping to kiss the angle of her collarbones with their gentle touch, and then went back up, finishing their pleasant journey in the mess that was her black hair. All the while, the commander's eyes remained closed, her heart soaring at the unbelievable notion of feeling and being able to feel. The first ghost of a smile appeared on her lips and she nudged at the asari gently with her nose. "You are the best hugger I've ever met," she announced unceremoniously, not bothering to move for a single inch.

At this, Liara's melodious laughter filled the small room they were in, warming Shepard's heart in ways she didn't think possible. "You are the strangest woman," she murmured softly as her chuckles subsided, her words laced with affection. "I know," came the mock-haughty response from the commander that had by then firmly settled in the nook of the scientist's neck. Liara shook her head at the dark-haired beauty curled against her, eyes sparkling in wonder. "Commander," she started, unsure of how exactly to proceed, "I know that it was me who was inviting you to bed, but don't you think this is a little... forward?" The asari brushed the fingers of one hand against the arm that had slid somewhat low while resting on her hip.

The said hand pulled back immediately and Shepard retreated from the asari, a blush spreading across her cheeks. She was sporting an abashed smile, not unlike a chided child, as she murmured an intelligible apology. The commander's heart was beating loudly in her chest and she felt like the next thrum would wake the whole crew. "Don't be silly, you fool," Liara sighed, smiling, and grabbed the offending hand in question. "I was kidding, Shepard," she continued, her voice suddenly husky. Never breaking the smoldering eye-contact with the woman, she guided her hand back to her body, placing it boldly on top of her breasts. "**This** is forward," the asari breathed, her lips coming to whisper in the commander's ear. "**This** is forward," she said again as she slid the unmoving hand down her silk-clad belly, caressing the fingers with her own.

"**This** is forward," echoed the commander, her eyes ablaze with passion as she pulled Liara to herself and devoured her mouth with her own. "Kathleen!" was the asari's last exalted exclamation as she requited the woman's brazen advances, meeting her with the force of her own fervor.

Then nobody said anything for a long, long time.


End file.
